


May You Find Some Comfort Here

by Sincestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angel Dean Winchester, Demon Sam Winchester, Hunter Castiel, Hunter Gabriel, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincestiel/pseuds/Sincestiel
Summary: After the death of their brother, Michael, Gabriel and Castiel strike out on their own to continue the family business.  It's all going just peachy until Gabriel takes up with a demon named Sam who brings his angel brother to them for help.  In his quest to bring the brothers back together, Castiel finds himself falling for a falling angel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got this prompt: reversal verse with angel!Dean/hunter!Castiel, wing kink, top!Dean
> 
> And that threw me completely off my original planned chapter fic. So that got bumped down and this got bumped up. I'm not sure how many chapters we'll get out of this one. As of right now it feels like it'll be short. But we'll see.
> 
> Just like before, updates to come weekly at least (I aim for Tuesdays). But could be more frequently.
> 
> Given that the roles are reversed, there's going to be some (a lot) of OOCness. I'm basically writing them how I think they would be in these roles. Sorry if that's bothersome. If it's not, carry on and (hopefully) enjoy.

“He needs help, Cas. That’s what we do, right? Help people?”

“ _He_ is not a person, Gabe. He’s a demon. And we _kill_ those. In case you’ve forgotten.”

“Come on. He helped us out with that werewolf last week. And the ghoul a couple of months ago.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and shakes his head because no. Hell no. He’s _not_ helping Sam with _anything_. In fact, the sooner he gets the demon out of their lives, the better. And he doesn’t much care how it happens. The bastard can disappear into the night or he can die (preferably at the end of Castiel’s blade). Either way.

“No.” Castiel pulls his laptop closer and opens the autopsy report the coroner’s office just emailed to him. 

And that’s that. Except Gabriel never has been very good at letting things go. Most of the time he lets Castiel call the shots just because he can’t be bothered to deal with the details. Gabe likes to barge in, kill whatever beast they’re after, hit the bar, and go home with the first breathing body to hit on him. But every now and then he pulls the big brother card.

“Vetoed. Sam’s bringing his brother and we’re going to help them.”

“We’re in the middle of a case. We don’t have time and I’m just not interested.”

“Yeah, well I am. Besides, his brother’s an angel.”

Castiel freezes, his hand hovering over the mousepad for several seconds before he looks up to meet Gabe’s eyes. 

“I thought that would get your attention.” Gabriel looks entirely too smug.

“There’s no such thing,” Castiel scoffs. But it sounds hollow even to himself. Because no matter how many times their older brother told them they’re all alone in this godforsaken world, Castiel has always wondered. If there are demons, then there has to be a heavenly counterpart, right? But he’s never seen one. Never met anyone who’s seen one.

“Yeah, well, you’re about to find out how wrong you are. How wrong Michael was.” Gabriel checks his watch and smiles, “In just about five minutes, actually. Sam said they’d be here around six.”

“You’ve met him? The angel?”

“Not yet, but Sam’s talked about him a few times. Apparently they’ve been apart since the Rebellion and now he’s earthside and Sam is trying to get him home.”

Castiel rolls his eyes again and laughs, “And you believe him? A _demon_ wants help getting into heaven, assuming it exists, and you see nothing odd about it? A demon whose brother is an _angel_? Come on, Gabe. I don’t care how good a lay he is, no way are you buying that shit.”

“I told you, no matter what you think about him, Sam isn’t a bad guy and he doesn’t lie to me.”

“Okay, look,” Castiel starts, closing his laptop and leaning back to prop his feet up on the small formica table. He eases his chair up on two legs and rests the back against the wall where he’s tucked into the corner (because he’s never liked having his back to any part of a room). “I know you think that you and Sam have something special. And hey, I’ve noticed you’re not even sleeping around recently. And I’m proud of you. I really am. I also know that having a normal relationship isn’t really in the card for us. But a _demon_ , Gabe? What do you think Michael would say about that? You can do better.”

Gabriel snorts, “Are you really going to lecture me on my sexual choices, Cas? What do you even know about relationships or sex at all? Just drop it, okay? Sam isn’t going anywhere.”

There’s a knock at the door then and Gabriel smirks. Castiel sees the ‘told you so’ written all over his face. But he lets it slide for now. He really is intrigued by this whole angel business and he’s willing to give the guy a chance just out of sheer curiosity.

Gabriel swings the door open and Sam’s on the other side, taking up the whole entryway with his broad frame. He stands almost a head taller than Gabe and he’s several inches wider at the shoulders. He’d be imposing if Castiel was at all inclined to allow the demon to induce any reaction from him other than frustration or general disdain.

Sam’s soulful gaze turns to Castiel and he nods, offering a little wave as he steps into the room. He _never_ quits trying. Castiel has spent the last few months letting Sam know in every way imaginable that he is never going to approve of his relationship with Gabe. But Sam just keeps right on looking at Castiel with those stupid hazel eyes full of pleas for acceptance. But Castiel isn’t as taken with him as Gabe is. He knows that remorseful, quest for redemption act is just that. An act. And Castiel doesn’t let his guard down around the guy ever.

Castiel’s eyes are drawn back to the doorway as Sam moves toward the beds on the other side of the room and… For several long seconds Castiel forgets to breathe.

Standing just inside the door, looking totally out of his element, is the most beautiful man Castiel has ever seen. He’s just a couple inches shorter than Sam. His light brown hair is shorter too, cropped close to his head rather than hanging down all over his collar like Sam’s. The guy’s got the straightest nose settled on top of the most perfectly shaped mouth and his jawline is a sharp angular incline. And those cheekbones could cut glass. But the most amazing thing? His eyes. They’re a shade of green Castiel isn’t sure he’s ever seen before. Lighter than emerald. Darker than peridot. Maybe flecked with some hazel here and there? He’d need to see them closer to be certain.

When he finally gets his wits about him, Castiel swings his feet off the table and lets the chair legs fall back to the floor with a thud. He sees Gabriel close the door out of the corner of his eye, but he can’t seem to look away from the guy standing statue still now in the middle of the room. His tightly corded arms are crossed over his muscular chest – which Castiel doesn’t have any problem admiring because the white t shirt he’s wearing is blessedly tight – and he’s standing with his feet shoulder width apart. Castiel sees it for what it is. It’s an assertive, unapproachable stance. Closed off. And the expression on his face matches his body language. But Castiel gets the impression it’s more for show than anything.

“Castiel, this is my brother, Dean.”

Castiel nods in Dean’s direction and Dean doesn’t acknowledge him at all.

“Dean,” Sam chastises, “play nice. Please. Castiel doesn’t like me, so him liking you is our only hope of him being willing to help.”

“I don’t need help from a human, Sam.” Dean spits the word ‘human’ like it’s foul tasting, like he wants it out of his mouth as quickly as possible.

“You really do, though.”

“Hey, no, you know what? That’s fine,” Castiel says, standing to grab his laptop. There’s an all-night café down the road with free wifi. Hot or not, Castiel doesn’t have to stay and listen to this guy – who might or might not be an angel – be a douche. He’s not sure there’s enough air in the room for all of them and the obvious ego this guy has anyway. “Gabriel is perfectly capable of handling whatever it is you need. Call me when they’re gone, Gabe.”

Gabe steps forward then to grab Castiel’s arm and Castiel doesn’t want to look into his eyes because he knows exactly what’s going to happen. He’s going to have that pleading look plastered on his face. The one that never fails to get him whatever he wants because Castiel hasn’t been able to say no to him in any real firm way since Michael died and left them on their own. Really, it’s almost as if Castiel is the big brother instead of the other way around.

He’s already placing his laptop back on the table before he even meets Gabe’s gaze. And when he does he knows he’s lost. He’s going to get wrapped up in whatever mess this is until the bitter end. Damn Gabe and his neediness. 

“So…” Castiel huffs, “you’re an angel, huh?”

Dean sneers and doesn’t answer and Castiel deflates, lowering himself back to his chair. Great. Such an asshole. And now, apparently, an asshole he’s not going to escape for a while. At least he’s nice to look at.

“He’s an angel,” Sam confirms and then to Dean, “Wings, Dean. Get ‘em out.”

Dean’s jaw clenches and he shakes his head, not looking any of them in the eye.

“Don’t be such an ass, Dean. God, they need to see them or they’re never going to believe-“

“Don’t blaspheme,” Dean chides, his eyes sliding down to land on Sam where he’s lowering himself to the bed. Castiel’s bed. And Castiel is just about to tell him to get his demon ass _off_ his pillow when the air around them shivers. That’s the only way he can describe what happens. It’s like heat rising off a desert highway or like tiny ripples in an otherwise still pond. Not quite tangible, but not invisible either.

And then, just like his next blink brings them into existence, there are two huge wings sprouting from Dean’s back. They span almost the width of the room, stretching out wide and ruffling slightly – like a bird after a trip to the birdbath. And then they draw in, not quite curling around Dean, but just framing him. 

They’re white, luminescent almost, at the top, but they fade down into a lighter gray in the middle. And the very tips are the darkest black Castiel has ever seen. It’s the most amazing thing and Castiel finds himself itching to touch them. The feathers are so soft looking, so inviting. But then he meets Dean’s eyes and there’s no invitation there at all. 

“Do not touch them,” he says, as if he knows exactly what Castiel is thinking. And, okay, busted. Whatever. So he won’t touch them. Because he’s pretty sure now that Dean really is an angel and that the guy could probably smite him with a look. So no touching of the wings.

“Okay,” Gabe breathes out, inching around the extra space Dean’s occupying now, to make his way over to sit beside Sam. “So. Your brother’s really an angel.”

Sam’s mouth draws into a tight line and his eyebrows lift at the same time his shoulders do and he nods. “Pretty much.”

“Sam was an angel once as well. Weren’t you, Sammy? Does your human boyfriend know that? Did you tell him that story?” Dean fires off the questions one after another, his eyes darting between Gabe and Sam lightning fast. And Castiel feels, for the first time ever, the desire to defend Gabriel’s relationship with Sam. Except now that he’s heard Dean string together several sentences all at once, he realizes just how deep and gritty his voice is and he sort of wants to drown in it. So he keeps quiet in hopes Dean will speak again.

“You gotta stop that, man. I know you’re angry about being cast out and you’re probably scared and-”

“Not scared, Sammy.” Dean flexes his shoulders and the wings shimmer and then fade out of view. But now that Castiel has seen them, he can still feel their presence. Knows they’re hovering just there, maybe in a parallel realm or maybe just invisible.

“Whatever. Listen, we need their help. _You_ need their help. And I know it’s hard for you to ask, but there’s really not another option.”

Finally, for the first time, Castiel sees Dean’s exterior crack and his original assumption that a lot of Dean’s posturing is put on rather than genuine becomes much more likely. Dean’s arms drop to his sides and he glances around until he spots the chair opposite of Castiel. He seems to ask permission without saying a word and Castiel nods.

When Dean lowers himself to sit, he does so gingerly. Like he knows how to do it. He understands the principal of the action, the mechanics. But he’s only just now applying knowledge of which he never thought he’d have need. He sits straight, his back barely touching the back of the chair and his hands folded in his lap. It’s almost cute. But Castiel doesn’t let himself smile.

“Cast out?” Castiel says, only just now registering what Sam said earlier.

“Yes,” Dean replies, his voice softer now. Tired. “I’ve been cast out. I’m not sure what happened.” He looks up and his eyes catch on Sam for a few seconds and then he lowers his head again, suddenly finding his shoes, black converse just poking out from under darkwash blue jeans, fascinating. Interesting. He’s lying. Castiel doesn’t call him on it though. Because whatever it is, it’s something he’s keeping from Sam.

“Sam, Gabe, why don’t you go find us something to eat.”

Everyone in the room turns to look at him, confused. But Castiel just digs his wallet out of his pocket and tosses a few bills onto the bed between him and his brother. 

“Do you eat, Dean? I know Sam does, but it’s mostly out of desire and not need.”

“I do not.”

“He’ll have a burger anyway,” Sam says, standing to grab Gabriel’s hand and pull him toward the door. Gabe scoops up the cash but he’s still trying to stall. He digs his heels in and looks suspiciously at Dean and then Castiel. Castiel just shakes his head and waves for them to leave.

They’re gone for almost a full minute before either of them speaks. And it’s Dean who cracks first. He lifts his head and looks into Castiel’s eyes, determination written all over his face.

“I’ll need you to pledge complete confidence. Whatever we discuss doesn’t get back to Sam or Gabriel. Do you so pledge?”

He holds his hand out and Castiel stares at it briefly before taking it. He’ll decide after they talk whether or not he intends to keep it to himself. But as soon as their fingers touch, Castiel feels a vibration of energy pass through their joined hands and when he says, “I do,” there’s a flash of muted light, like their hands glow for a fraction of a second and Dean nods. Castiel knows spellwork when he sees it and he’s no doubt he’s now bound by his promise.

“What happens if I break that?”

“It’s unbreakable,” Dean answers, matter of fact, as he releases Castiel’s hand.

“Yeah, I got that. So what’s the punishment for breaking it?”

Dean turns to face Castiel completely, scooting up to sit directly across the table from him, palms resting on the cool surface. His head tilts to the side and he smiles. It’s soft. Almost fond and Castiel is blown away. This is not the same man who stood before him, surly and ill-mannered, only moments before.

“You won’t be able to break it. It’s binding until I release you from it. Anything you try to tell Sam or Gabriel about this conversation will simply not leave your lips. It’s Enochian magic. I don’t expect you are familiar with it.”

Castiel agrees and shrugs. Hopefully whatever Dean tells him won’t be so bad that he’ll feel the need to tell either of them. Though that hope is very small.

“So, spill. What’s so horrible you can’t tell your brother? What caused you to get thrown out of heaven?”

“Nothing,” Dean offers, leaning forward, as if he’s sharing his darkest secret with Castiel, “I chose to leave.”

“Oh, well that’s not so bad. Just tell him.” Sure, Sam’s a demon and Castiel hates the fact that he’s with Gabriel. But the guy isn’t unreasonable. Besides, Dean’s choices are his own to make.

“I tried. But the second I summoned him after landing, he started in on trying to figure out how to put me back. And now he’s found a spell and what he thinks is a gateway to Purgatory. From there he’s pretty sure I can get back to Heaven. He won’t give it up.”

“But if you left rather than getting thrown out, can’t you just go back? You still have your wings.”

Dean nods and leans back in his chair, finally relaxing some. “But I don’t want to go back.”

“So you’re just taking Sam on a wild goose chase?”

“Just until I can figure out how to tell him.”

Castiel reaches up to rub at his eyes. He’s too old for this shit. He and Gabe aren’t the best communicators sometimes, but they do a hell of a lot better than this.

“Why is it such a big deal?”

Dean picks at a crack on the table, the action makes him appear more human than anything he’s done so far. “Sam left because he wanted to. He followed Lucifer. He thought he was fighting for a better existence for us. And now he’s… he hates the choice he made. And he’d give anything to go back. I didn’t realize that until I summoned him because I hadn’t seen him since he jumped.”

Now Sam makes more sense to Castiel. He’d always wondered why Sam spent so much time topside. Why he didn’t seem to fit the demon mold. He’d thought it was an act, but that’s probably not the case. He’s one of the original fallen angels and he regrets it. Castiel has spent months hating Sam and with one revelation it’s starting to fade. How annoying.

“Why did you leave, Dean?” That seems important. 

“I missed him,” his voice cracks at the end and he turns his head and Castiel knows this angelic being, this masterpiece of Heaven, is on the verge of tears. Castiel thinks about how much he misses Michael even though they never got along. And that’s when he vows to help them. He’ll help Dean find a way to tell Sam the truth and he’ll help Sam accept it.

“Alright. So how do we play this?” Dean’s head whips up and his eyes widen in surprise.

“You’ll help me?”

“Yeah. I’ll help. As long as you don’t act like a dick all the time.”

“But sometimes is okay? Because I really shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep, you know?” There’s a glint in Dean’s eyes and Castiel almost thinks he’s flirting. But there’s no way this angel who looked perplexed at the thought of sitting in a chair knows anything about flirtation.

“Sure. We’re all dicks sometimes. So what do I need to know?”

Dean seems more at ease as he delves into the logistics of his situation. He’s falling but not yet fallen. His grace, the spark that sets him apart from humans, will drain the longer he’s on Earth. And once it’s gone, the vessel he took as his own years ago during a mission, will become his body permanently. Which is just a formality really since the former inhabitant died of old age years ago. So he just has to hold out, stall Sam, until that happens.

As far as his relationship with Sam goes, they’re a bit rocky. Before the Rebellion and the Fall they’d been closer than most of their brethren. They’d served together, fought alongside one another, and sworn their allegiance to each other above all others. Dean thinks that, the fact that Sam was so devoted to him and he to Sam, is what started Sam’s downward spiral. He’d wanted more for them. He’d wanted to escape the other angels who’d been determined to tear them apart for the good of the garrison. So Sam had bought into Lucifer’s promises. Dean though, rejected those ideologies even though Sam tried to recruit him several times. And when Sam left, he’d tried to force Dean to go with him. Sam still hasn’t forgiven himself for any of it. And Dean is also somewhat bitter, but more about the years they’ve been apart than anything else.

“It’s not a romantic love Sam and I share, no matter how it might seem. But it certainly runs deeper than anything I feel for my other siblings. And I often regret not leaving with him the first time. But now I have a second chance. And here we can be brothers in a different sense. Without the bloodshed and war. Without Archangels breathing down our necks.”

“Yeah, well, if you plan on living among us, you’ll probably need to overcome your distaste for humans.”

Dean nods sagely, so solemn Castiel almost laughs.

“Are we really that bad?” He asks, incredulously.

Dean smiles, his thumb still running back and forth over the imperfection on the surface of the table. “You are not as horrible as I’d assumed.” He’s looking at this thumb though and won’t meet Castiel’s eyes. And he’s pretty sure there’s a blush spreading over his cheeks. It’s very attractive. Mainly because in any situation that might even remotely be perceived as flirtatious, Castiel is usually the one blushing. This is nice for a change.

“Well, that’s a start. So what do I need to do to help? Or to make Sam think I’m helping?”

“The spell Sam found requires some obscure ingredients. Most of those he can get in a few days’ time and I think he intends to take Gabriel with him to do so. But there’s one that only you can provide.”

“Only me?” Castiel can’t imagine anything he could offer that no one else can.

“That’s not exactly honest, I don’t suppose. Many people could offer it. But Gabriel assured Sam that you fit the requirement and it would be easier than finding someone else.”

The door opens just as Castiel is saying, “What requirement do I fit?”

Gabriel answers without missing a beat as he drops two bags of takeout on the table between Castiel and Dean. “The spell requires virgin jizz, Cassie.”

Now Castiel blushes. Several deep and, surely, unflattering shades of red. He busies himself reaching into the bags to take out the food even though he really wants to flee the room. God. He can’t believe Gabriel told Sam he’s a virgin. A few years ago it might not have been so embarrassing but at almost thirty it’s looking to be a permanent situation. It’s humiliating knowing that Sam and Dean both know.

He’s not expecting the hand that reaches out to still his own. And he certainly isn’t expecting the kindness and the softness of Dean’s voice when he says, “There’s no shame in your purity, Castiel. Do not let Sam or Gabriel make you feel ashamed of your virtue. It’s is an honorable and noble decision to remain chaste.”

Gabriel chokes on a french fry laughing and Castiel hopes it cuts off his fucking airway. But he can’t turn to look and see if he’s turning blue because he’s looking into Dean’s eyes now. They’re so earnest, so true and genuine and he gets lost in the green depths.

“He didn’t choose chastity. Chastity chose him.” Gabriel quips when he finally works the food down his throat.

Dean cocks his head to the side again, an odd quirk of his that Castiel has already noticed. His eyes scan up and down Castiel’s body, sizing him up in a way that sends a thrill down Castiel’s spine and a rush of heat to his groin. 

“I don’t understand. You’re objectively attractive. I can’t imagine you’d have a hard time finding a willing partner. Why-”

But he doesn’t get to finish his question because Gabe cuts him off with, “I think Dean might like to help you out there, Cas. Maybe after the spell you two could find some alone time before he goes back.”

Gabriel is teasing, that’s so obvious. And Castiel wants to throw something at him. But he’s _still_ staring into Dean’s face and that blush is back. But Dean isn’t looking away and it even appears he’s considering Gabriel’s words. Castiel would swear Dean nods just a bit before Castiel peels his eyes away and flings the tomato off his burger in Gabriel’s general direction. He hits Sam instead, much to Gabe’s delight. And his own. Even if he doesn’t hate Sam as much now, he still finds joy in the sound the soggy, limp tomato slice makes when it splats against Sam’s cheek.

He turns back to his food while Gabe fawns over Sam, wiping the traces of tomato juice and ketchup off his face. But the whole time he’s eating, he feels Dean’s gaze like a weight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. Guys, I gotta be honest here, I'm really struggling with this one. I like the concept. But I feel like Castiel and Dean are falling flat and lack any sort of interesting qualities. And this is why I typically stick with things that are in character or close to it. I'm going to be honest here, this one could end up getting scrapped or I could have to start it over. I hate that because I've got quite a bit written and I felt like I had it well shaped in my head before I started posting. But I'm losing it on the characterization and I'm scared it's really dry. I'll know for sure what's going to happen with it by next week. Stay tuned.

It turns out that the spell doesn’t actually call for semen. Gabriel has always had a flare for the dramatic and his favorite pastime is embarrassing Castiel. So of course yelling out that Castiel needs to offer virgin jizz for the spell seemed like the best course of action. Naturally.

It does, however, call for a contribution of his ‘lifeforce.’ Dean agrees that could easily encompass blood as well. Not that it matters, because Castiel intends to nip this before they get to the point of actually casting the spell.

But before he can focus on that mess, he needs to wrap up the case they’re currently working on. And it looks like Gabriel’s going to be no help with that because he disappears with Sam shortly after they finish their burgers. And then it’s just he and Dean, staring at each other across the small table littered with remnants of their dinner.

Half of Dean’s burger still sits uneaten in front of him, but he’s working slowly and methodically on his fries. The fact that they’re cold doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s dragging one in concentric circles through his ketchup when Castiel finally stands to start stuffing wrappers and containers into the paper bag from which they came. A human with any sense of manners, might stand to help him. Dean doesn’t.

It’s odd the way he seems to be a weird mix of cluelessness to human behavior and understanding of certain sayings and figures of speech. Maybe he understands _what_ humans do but not _why_ they do it. And so he finds it easier to pick and choose.

“Did you not like the burger?” Castiel stuffs the overflowing bag into the small trashcan beside the minifridge behind Dean and then sits back down, flipping his laptop open.

“It was strange.” Dean shrugs, and it looks practiced. He’s watching them and trying to adapt and Castiel probably shouldn’t find that as endearing as he does. Not when Dean so easily runs hot and cold, fascinated by them one minute and disgusted the next. But the guy is adorable, okay?

“Weird how?” Castiel keys in his password and pulls the autopsy up again.

“The different textures were a little troublesome. I did enjoy the taste, though. So maybe I’ll get used to it.” He pops another fry into his mouth and Castiel tries very hard not to focus on the way his lips, slightly shiny with grease, close around his teeth. He fails. And when one corner of the mouth he’s eyeing quirks up in a half smile, Castiel jerks his attention back to the task at hand. Solve the case.

“I apologize for being such a… dick, as you put it, earlier. The adjustment’s been difficult and Sam’s trying to help but he’s just making it worse because I can’t tell him the whole truth. And, on top of that, I’m giving up things that I’m going to miss. And even though I know it’s the right decision, it still hurts.”

Castiel looks up over the top of his laptop, ignoring the report for the moment because Dean is too distracting.

“Like what? I know you’re slowly losing your grace, but what else?” Honestly, Castiel should probably be recording this for his journal. As far as he knows he’s the first hunter to ever meet an angel. The information he can glean from Dean is priceless. A once in a lifetime type of situation. And he’s been too distracted by how attractive he is and how embarrassed he is by Gabriel’s outburst to worry about asking too many extra questions. 

“Everything. Everything I am is tied to my grace in some way. I won’t be able to communicate with my brothers. I won’t be able to return to my home. My wings-” Dean stops there, the fry he’s holding hanging limp between his fingers as he stares at the wall to the left of Castiel’s head. He’s speaking to Castiel, of course, but Castiel isn’t sure he’s meant to recognize and sympathize with the pain flashing across his face.

Those glorious wings Castiel only saw momentarily but still feels, somehow, in the air to the sides of Dean’s body. They’re going to fade or fall off. Castiel thinks it would be like losing his legs except more painful even because Dean’s wings are a huge part of his identity.

“I won’t be the same. I’ll never really be human. But I’ll not be an angel anymore either. I’ll just be stuck in between.” He sighs then and brings the fry to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before he adds, “But it’ll be worth it. I’ve missed Sam more than I could ever miss my wings.”

“They’re beautiful, you know,” Cas says suddenly, wincing when Dean’s eyes snap back to his face. Dean probably knows how beautiful they are already. He doesn’t need Castiel to remind him of just what he’s losing. Not when he’s already aching over it.

“In Heaven they are pretty standard. The Archangels have flowing wings of gold. Cherubim have smaller wings, but they’re adorned with jewels and precious stones of all different colors. They throw prisms of color at all angles when they take flight. And Seraphim have blazing wings of fire so bright no human could ever hope to look directly at them without burning out their eyes. Though, to be fair, that would happen to most humans who could see angels in their heavenly form.”

At this point, Castiel has opened a new document and he’s quickly typing everything Dean tells him. Dean doesn’t seem to mind, and eagerly answers any question Castiel asks. 

Dean, it turns out, is a lower level angel. A warrior previously, but as of late he’s been serving as guardian for a few different humans. He’s found it to be a mundane and boring task, which shapes some of his distaste for humans in general. And he’d finally decided to leave Heaven to chase after Sam when he felt his work was no longer of import. 

He tells Castiel that angels are larger than anything he could possibly imagine. No valley or canyon on earth could contain the true form of any angel in heaven. No mountain surpasses even the smallest of angels in height. And still, their forms are not solid as humans perceive solid to be. Dean compares their forms to that of light or liquid. Ever changing, glowing and burning and mighty. 

He talks about Heaven itself. How it doesn’t exist in any tangible way that Castiel could discern. How it manifests differently for every soul that enters. He talks about his other brothers and even, a bit, about Lucifer. He admits that he’s never met God and thinks he probably never would have.

And all the while he’s talking, Castiel is typing. Collecting as much information as he can, asking questions when Dean pauses or the urge is just too strong. Dean humors him right up until Castiel asks if he can see Dean’s wings again. At that point, the hardened mask slides back over Dean’s features and he pulls himself up ramrod straight again.

“Why?”

The sudden change in demeanor is troubling and Castiel isn’t really sure what answer to give. _Because I find the sight of them flowing off your back entrancing_ seems a little forward and _because I’m desperate to touch them_ seems almost obscene. So he settles on, “Why not?”

“Not everyone who aims to get their hands on an angel’s wings has good intentions. My feathers do not contain as much magic as those of Cherubim or Seraphim. But they would be dangerous in the hands of a human nonetheless.”

“I don’t want to pull your feathers out, Dean. And I’m sure you could stop me if I tried anyway. I just want… I find them to be interesting. And it has to be uncomfortable keeping them tucked away.”

Castiel turns back to the document he’s working on, adding the bit about angel feathers containing magic. Possibly the Enochian magic Dean used earlier. And he’s halfway through a sentence when the air around them ripples, slightly rustling the burger wrapper still serving as a plate for Dean’s fries.

He doesn’t look up right away. Instead he methodically finishes typing the sentence he’s working on. And when he finally does raise his eyes, Dean is carefully lifting his burger wrapper to roll it and the food inside of it up. He turns and drops it in the trashcan and then settles back in his chair, one long feathered wing at each side.

“It’s very uncomfortable,” he admits, stretching each wing a quarter of the way out before drawing them back in and tucking them as closely as he can against his body. Castiel can just make out the darker feathers toward the bottom of his right wing where the end of it is curved behind the chair and a thought occurs to him.

“Does Sam still have his wings?”

“They would have burned off when he fell. Sam’s fall was quicker than mine will be, but also more painful. He would have lost everything all at once where as I will be able to slowly adjust.”

“And did his look like yours? The white to black gradient?”

Dean smiles and shakes his head. “Sam’s were black and crimson. The only angel in our entire garrison with that coloring. Maybe we should have taken it as an omen.” Dean stands abruptly, the smile falling off of his face. “They’ll return soon. We should have some work done on your… case? That’s what Gabriel said before he left. He wants to wrap it up soon.”

“Yeah, he always wants to wrap it up soon. He’s a little trigger happy and he doesn’t like for anything to get between him and his alcohol or your brother.” Minimizing the document with the angel information, Castiel brings the autopsy report up again, determined this time to actually read it.

“You don’t approve of their relationship.” He states it like the fact it is and Castiel doesn’t feel the need to answer so he just offers a vague mumble of agreement and turns his attention to the cause of death. Myocardial infarction. Which is normal enough. Except there has been a surge in heart attacks recently in this town and all the vics have perimortem bruising on their ribs and inner thighs. Bruising on the inner thighs would generally point to some kind of sexual assault. And the rib bruising _could_ be a result of some kind of restraints. But they’re dotted and inconsistent. And there’s no other indication of sexual deviance.

“Is it because Sam is a demon? Or because he is a male?”

“Huh?” Castiel asks, oh so articulately because his brain is still stuck on the weird bruise patterns.

“Despite the belief of some humans, God does not condemn love between two people of the same sex.”

Dean has his back turned and he’s studying the wall where Castiel has tacked up all of their clippings and bits of information for this case. And when Castiel pulls his attention away from the picture in front of him, registering Dean’s words, he gets hung again. But this time his brain stops on the wings extending from Dean’s back.

Like this, the only part of Dean’s body Castiel can see is the back of his head, his neck, and the few inches of back visible between the humeri of his wings. The feathers block his view of Dean’s arms or legs. They almost seem to connect to the back of his shirt because Castiel can see no opening through which they are protruding. The desire to touch is even stronger with them on display like this, and so he turns back to the computer in front of him.

“I don’t care that Gabe sleeps with men. But Sam’s a demon and I guess I don’t hate him _as_ much now. But I’m not exactly going to be the supportive brother anytime soon. Gabe is fickle though, so it’ll probably be over before I even have to worry about warming up to him.”

“It looks like there’s a cave on the north end of the county, just a few miles from here. The bodies were found close to that? That’s what these marks are?’ Dean shifts gears quickly, but Castiel isn’t bothered. Honestly he’d rather not discuss Sam and Gabe right now. Or ever.

“Yes,” Castiel confirms, switching to a picture of the victim before the most recent. Same marks. They have to mean something. But he’s not really sure where to start with this one. 

“Do the bodies have bruising? Particularly around the ribs? Maybe the thighs too. There could also be some at the knees or feet, but those areas don’t bruise as easily I would imagine.”

Castiel’s head snaps up at that. “Yes. How did you know that?”

“It was just a guess based on the information you’ve gathered. You’re dealing with a Leshi. They literally tickle their victims to death. I would guess your victims died of heart failure. And if you have any information on their mouths and throats, they likely had some damage to both from laughing and biting at their own tongues and cheeks for relief.”

Castiel scrolls down the autopsy his has hand and a grin spreads over his face. “You, my friend, are fantastic. Do you just have, what, an encyclopedia of creatures in your head? If so, I’m keeping you.”

Dean turns back to him and there’s a flush on the apples of his cheeks. “I have a working knowledge of most all creatures on Earth.”

“Great. So how do we kill this S.O.B.?”

“A knife or gun should do just fine. The only problem is they’re shapeshifters. They can take human or animal form. You could be dealing with a giant one minute and then a flea sized beast the next.” Dean moves back across the room, flexing his wings a time or two before he sits on the chair again. “But, of course, it has to be somewhat larger than an insect to engage in the tickling.”

Castiel nods, already logging this information in another document. “So probably the best course of action would be to let it take one of us and the others follow and kill it before it can do the tickle of death. God. If you’d told me a few years ago I’d need to kill a monster that tickles people to death I never would have believed you. And Michael would have flipped.”

“Michael?” Dean says the name slowly, like he’s turning it over in his head a few times and then, “He was your brother?”

“Yeah, did Sam tell you that? Or do you also have a working knowledge of all humans?”

Dean shrugs again, and this time it looks a little less deliberate. “If I were still in Heaven I could read your mind easily. Here though, I can only get impressions and jumbled bits of emotion. Nothing clear or substantial. I could tell Michael was a relation when you said his name. But I guessed at the connection.”

Oh great. The idea that Dean can read minds is not one Castiel has considered.

“Right now you’re stressed. But I can’t tell why.” Tilting his head, Dean leans forward like the answers will present themselves if he just gets close enough to Castiel’s face.

Castiel leans back. “It might have something to do with the fact that an angel is reading my mind.”

“I’m not reading your mind. I told you, it’s blurry and unclear. For instance, I can tell you find my wings intriguing, but I’m not sure why. I knew that you didn’t approve of Gabriel’s relationship with Sam, but not exactly why. I knew earlier when you realized I wasn’t being honest with Sam, but that was the extent of my knowledge. And I think-”

Dean stops there, squinting in Castiel’s direction as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to say what he’s thinking. Castiel doesn’t know if he should derail the conversation but he doesn’t get enough time to do it anyway.

“I think you might be attracted to me, but it could also be that you’re just taken with the fact that I’m an angel. Which is it?”

Thankfully, Gabe picks that moment to sling the door wide, laughing at something Sam is hunched over to whisper in his ear. Dean’s wings disappear almost instantly, and he pulls himself up taller and straighter, like he feels less relaxed without his wings.

_Both_ , Castiel thinks. But he turns to Gabe and Sam instead, leveling them with a stern look.

“How many has he had?”

“Oh lighten up, Cassie.” Gabriel slurs the hated nickname and Castiel shoots Sam a look.

“You’re supposed to look out for him. Last time he drank too much he puked all over his bed and I had to share with him.”

“I tried to stop him,” Sam insists, guiding Gabe to the empty bed on the far side of the room. And yeah. Castiel believes him. But he also knows that Sam gives in so easily when it comes to Gabriel and he really needs to toughen up. He and Dean watch as Sam works to get Gabe’s shoes off and then pile him onto the middle of the bed. Gabriel goes easily enough, but he clings to Sam’s shirt before Sam can pull away.

“Stay,” Gabriel implores and there’s an edge of lust to his voice. Sam looks up at Castiel helplessly, but he carefully keeps his hands to himself, spread wide and out to the side. It’s comical really. It’s not like Castiel doesn’t know they sleep together. Hell, half the time they get their own room. Which might not be a bad idea right now. Except Gabe is obviously in no condition to switch rooms.

Castiel stands and starts rounding up his laptop and the charger. “I’ll just get another room for the night. And…” Castiel stops when he realizes they can’t really carry on as per usual because there’s a fourth person they have to accommodate.

“It’s fine, Cas.” Sam says, reaching down to try and unlock the viselike grip Gabe has on the front of his shirt. “Dean and I will-”

“I don’t mind to go with Castiel.” Dean offers, “We’re still working on the case anyway.”

And that’s how Castiel ends up in a new room without most of the clippings he still needed to review again. With Dean. Who is still looking at Castiel like he’s trying to figure out if Castiel is attracted to him. But Castiel doesn’t give him a chance to pick that topic up again.

He plops down on one bed and motions for Dean to take the other. And he smiles when Dean’s wings reappear just as he’s easing down onto the side of the bed. He’s tentative about it though, like he’s ready to hide them away again if Castiel asks.

“You already know I like them, so I don’t know why you’re worried,” Castiel mumbles, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks as he shuffles through the few clippings he managed to gather up before he left the other room (three rooms down because the last thing he wants is to have to listen to their brothers going at it).

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Dean offers, soft and kind. And Castiel is, yet again, struck by how often Dean seems to shift. From one moment to the next, he’s not sure what personality he’s going to get. And he knows one of them is the real Dean. Or maybe there’s another version he hasn’t seen yet, one that somehow encompasses all the faces he’s worn tonight and that’s the real Dean. “I don’t mind if you look at them.”

As if to emphasize his point, he lets his right wind extend so that Castiel can see the underside of it from top to bottom. “Just don’t touch them. I don’t like it.”

Castiel nods and lets his eyes roam freely over the soft looking plumage. From up close he can make out the individual feathers and how they’re all neatly groomed and straightened. He pictures Dean plucking at them with his mouth like a bird does with its beak and a little chuckle escapes him before he can stop it. The wing snaps together instantly and Dean draws it back to his body.

“No! I just… how do you preen them? I don’t imagine you do it like a bird does? That’s what I found funny! Your wings are beautiful and I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

Dean’s drawn expression softens and he slowly stretches the wing out again, but this time he reaches out with his hands to smooth the feathers down. “The insides are easy. Normally I would maintain the outside with magic or help from my brothers. But I would hate to waste my limited magic on something so trivial now.”

“Hm. You said they’re going to disappear too?”

Dean nods sadly, still plucking at individual feathers that he deems to be crooked though Castiel can see no obvious imperfections. “Eventually I’ll no longer be able to call them back. And then I’ll just lose touch with them as they die.” He voice is deeper, more raw than it was even earlier recounting his history with Sam.

“Maybe Sam could help you with them until then. I’m sure he remembers how.”

“I wouldn’t want to burden him like that. I’m sure he misses his own wings and helping with mine would be painful for him.”

Castiel finds that he’s leaning forward, so close he can smell the oil coating Dean’s feathers and making them shimmer in the dim light. But Dean isn’t pushing him away or pulling his wing back. So Castiel doesn’t move back. “I could learn to help. If you want, that is. I know you don’t want me touching them. But the offer’s out there if you change your mind.”

It’s unreal how much Castiel wants to touch them. Run his fingertips over each individual feather. Trace the delicate bones and bits of skin he sees at the top. Work his hands into the soft, downy plumage at the base of each wing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean says just before he clears his throat, “So, the Leshi. I was thinking that we could let it take Sam, since he’s a demon and not likely to actually die. Or me. I’d probably survive now even if no one came for a few days.”

“Sam,” Castiel replies, sitting up and making himself focus on something other than the wings, “It can take Sam.”

“You really don’t like my brother, do you?”

“Give it time. You won’t like mine either.”

Dean laughs then, just a little, but it’s still the smoothest and sweetest sound Castiel’s ever heard. 

“He does seem a little obnoxious.”

“You have no idea. And, you know, Sam’s not so bad, I guess. I just got used to not liking him on principal. And I’m still not sure I trust him.”

“Fair enough,” Dean offers, reasonably, finally settling his wing in against his side, “So, we let it take Sam. That means you and Gabriel will need to wear your clothes inside out and your shoes on the wrong feet.”

Castiel’s head jerks up and he knows his confusion is written all over his face because, “What?”

“It seems strange. I know. And honestly the shoes probably aren’t necessary. But better safe than sorry. And once it has Sam, it shouldn’t be difficult to sneak in and take it out. A gun or a knife would be sufficient. They’re cave-dwellers so there’s no doubt it’s holed up in the cave I saw on the county map.”

“You are really handy,” Cas checks his watch, “I might even get more than a few hours sleep tonight. Um… do you need some pajamas or something? I probably have some extra shorts.”

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t sleep. Not yet anyway.”

“Oh. Well. In that case you can watch TV if you want. It won’t bother me.”

“Watching you sleep isn’t an option?”

“Um… I…” Castiel doesn’t really know what to say to that because it’s weird as hell. But the word ‘no’ suddenly doesn’t seem to be in his vocabulary anymore.

“It was a joke,” Dean throws out on the tail end of a chuckle.

Castiel doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. And no sooner than he thinks that, Dean does that odd head cocking thing.

“Your emotions are really confusing. Did you want me to watch you sleep?”

“That’d be odd, I think.” Castiel stands then and starts rummaging through his bag looking for some sweat pants.

“That was not an answer.”

“Yeah. Well. I need to change.” Castiel closes himself up in the bathroom before Dean can try to get an answer out of him.

Dean ends up sitting cross legged in the middle of ‘his’ bed with the TV on. His wings still out and curling slightly, flowing off the sides of the bed in a way that suggests they’re not nearly as firm as bird wings. Castiel doesn’t think he watches him sleep. But, surprisingly, he falls asleep so fast he can’t be sure.


End file.
